


Tactichromation

by phipiohsum475



Series: The World For My Soul [2]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Achromatopsia, Color Blindness, M/M, Possible Spoilers Up To The Flash 3x22 Infantino Street, Soulmate AU, Tritanopia, mentions of child abuse, protanopia, soulmate colors au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-15
Updated: 2019-08-15
Packaged: 2020-09-01 04:07:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20251906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phipiohsum475/pseuds/phipiohsum475
Summary: Of course, after nine yearly Color Days, nine separate occasions where his father used his Colorlessness as an excuse to taunt him, starve him, burn him, and beat him - as though he needed an excuse - it was 9th grade, or at least what passed for 9th grade in juvie, when Lenny finally first saw color.One-shot.





	1. Chapter 1

"And why do we have Color Days? Does anyone remember?" Mrs. Pauwee prompted.

Leo raised his hand, but she called on Karen like  _ always _ . He frowned. Mrs. Pauwee didn’t like him because he ‘had a smart mouth,’ but he was just  _ smart _ , dammit. 

Karen parroted the textbook answer, “So children can find their Full Spectrum before their colors begin to fade.”

Or, if you were Leo, it was to find your Full Spectrum, so that your dad didn’t have to split his share of the take with some Fullie grunt. Leo hated Color Day. Six hours touching the grubby hands of every elementary school kid in the district. Then he had to go home still Colorless and get the shit kicked out of him by his dad. At least if his last three Color Days were anything to go by. 

Not that he really even wanted to find his Full Spectrum, or even a Partial. Being able to see colors -  _ any colors _ \- would just mean more “chores” from his dad. And the more work Leo was given, the more chances he had to fuck up. 

And fuck ups fucking  _ hurt _ . 

-o-

Barry stood at the front of the classroom, holding his note cards with white knuckles, trying to avoid the cruel snickers coming from his classmates as he gave his short presentation on Chandra Bhaskar. He looked to Iris who wore her lavender blouse as promised; the one color he could see. With a deep breath, he steeled at the reminder of her support and soldiered through the last paragraph.

“Using this method, Dr. Bhaskar, a pioneer in the field of tactichromation, proved that the older you are when you find your Full Spectrum and get your colors, the less saturated those colors are. As a result, the United States government mandated annual Color Days in 1952, so that all schoolchildren from Kindergarten to 8th grades would have a better chance of finding their Full Spectrum while their colors would still be their brightest. Today, 92% of children find their Full Spectrum by the 8th grade because of Dr. Bhaskar’s hard work and brilliant research.”

Barry stopped staring at his notes, dropped his arms to his sides and looked up.  _ Was he supposed to bow? Say ‘The End?’ God, he hated presentations. _ But then Iris began to clap and the rest of the class joined her. 

“Well done, Barry,” Mr. Roper praised, “You may be seated.”

Barry collapsed in his chair and sighed his relief. 

“You did awesome, Barr!” Iris whispered loudly. 

He beamed back at her. A lot of things in his life were terrible, but Iris wasn’t one of them. They’d met in Kindergarten when she bumped into him in her hurry to drag her father to the swing set. He’d excitedly noticed her lavender hair bollies at the tops of her braids and yanked himself out of a hug with his mother to chase her across the playground. When she’d turned around, she had a great big smile because  _ she  _ was seeing sunshine yellow for the first time. They were immediate best friends. 

They were even best friends after she’d found out that Eddie was her Full Spectrum during Color Day in third grade. But Eddie went to a different school, so even though Joe took them to meet up with the Thawnes every few months to nurture Eddie and Iris’ friendship, Barry was the one that got to sit with her during class and lunch and recess and he  _ loved  _ her. 

Not all Fullies fell in love and Barry held out hope that in time, Iris would love him just like he loved her. 

-o-

Of course, after nine yearly Color Days, nine separate occasions where his father used his Colorlessness as an excuse to taunt him, starve him, burn him, and beat him - as though he needed an excuse - it was 9th grade, or at least what passed for 9th grade in juvie, when Lenny finally first saw color. 

It was the color of the tiny but effective shiv Mick Rory wielded as he pushed Lenny behind him, to protect his scrawny ass from a couple of dickwads who thought just because this was his first stint, that he’d lived a blissful, innocent, violence-free life. He’d barely seen the shiv it was so dark and until Mick turned back to him and he could see it properly, he wasn’t convinced he’d seen it at all. 

“Thanks,” Lenny offered once the assholes had fled. He looked at Mick with a skeptical eye, Partial or not. “What do I owe you?”

“Your cards,” Mick said, holding out a hand.

Lenny looked at the lightly shaded playing cards scattered around underneath him and nodded. It was a small price to pay. He began to gather them.

“No. Your cards,” Mick pointed to them, “Backs’ got color.”

Definitely his Partial, then. Figures he’d meet his Partial in juvie. “So now what?”

“You go to the library and check out what color you got. I’ll wait a week. Better if they don’t know we’re Partials.”

Lenny agreed and let Mick walk off with the cards. He wound his way to the library to search the Color Book; it was ‘Midnight Blue’ he’d seen on Mick’s shiv. He pocketed the guide and made his way back to his dorm, hiding the book in his bunk. He’d pass it off to Mick tomorrow; he wasn’t about to let his Partial spend a week wondering what his color was. 

-o-

Sitting on the couch alone in the darkness of the living room with the TV paused, Barry watched as the digital clock turned from 11:59 to 12:00. 

It was official. He had monochromatopsia. He went from being a Partial to having a color disorder in the span of a few seconds. His neuro-optometrist hadn't even been optimistic; she'd scheduled him for an appointment three days after his 18th birthday. He was already trying to find excuses not to go, as if the diagnosis not being in his medical record made it not true. 

Sleep didn’t come easy. His anxiety manifested in his dreams as failed tests and laughing classmates and bright white lightning and his father dying in the visiting room as Barry tried desperately to get past the thick glass to save him. He woke up with a start, tangled in his sheets with a distinct feeling of failure. 

He didn’t bother to dress and settled himself on the sofa with a bowl full of cinnamon-sugary cereal with the cereal box by his side.  _ Could he give this vague melancholy diabetes? _ He didn’t know, but he was going to try. He streamed one of his old favorites on the TV; planning on a day of nerdy science puns and sugar crashes. 

An hour or so later, he heard Iris make her way down the stairs. “Happy Birthday!” She sang as she draped her arms around his neck from behind and gave him a kiss on the crown of his head. She wandered off to the kitchen for her own cereal and a cup of coffee, then came and snuggled down next to him. 

“Really, Barr?” She scoffed at the show he’d been watching and jostled him lightly.

“Hey! It’s  _ my  _ birthday. And I love this show,” he protested. 

“It’s  _ black and white _ . Are you eight or eighteen?” she joked. 

Barry’s grin faded, even though he knew she was only teasing. “It’s not like I can see anything else.”

“Hey!” she exclaimed, “I wore this shirt especially for you today!” She gestured to the soft lavender tunic she wore that she’d bought a few months back to support him through his senior year calculus midterms. 

Barry smiled, warmth coursing through him hot and tight leading to right where Iris leaned into his side. He tampered it down; Iris was very much in love with Eddie and didn’t need his pathetic, misplaced affections. 

“Besides, it’s not the black and white that makes this a kid’s show; it’s the terrible alien costumes and tired time travel tropes.”

“No!” Barry sat up and placed his bowl on the coffee table with a thunk, “It might look like a silly black and white kids’ show, but the themes are deep and insightful. What makes us human? What is meaningful? How do humans deal with trauma? Death? It’s…” Barry’s excitement trailed off at the look on Iris’ face. 

“You’re so adorable, Barry,” she ruffled his hair. “Seriously, like, puppy-level cute.”

Barry faked the smile he gave her before filling up his bowl again. Iris loved and knew him better than anyone, but without a Full Spectrum, even  _ she  _ couldn’t take him seriously. 

-o-

Lisa was the only one who knew the truth. 

Between Mick’s complete refusal to say anything around Lewis for fear of a fatal confrontation - not that Mick minded, but Len did for some reason - and Len’s carefully planning, Lewis believed Len was a ‘useless, good-for-nothing, Colorless, soulless son-of-a-bitch.’

But Lisa knew. Because Lisa knew  _ all  _ the colors. She’d been in middle school when Color Day revealed she had met her Fullest - a sweet little kindergartner with big brown eyes and soft black curls. She’d been teased by her peers; but Lewis had a wicked smile when she came home with a fat packet of information.

It was only through Len’s determination and Mick’s ruthlessness that Lewis had kept Lisa as a look out alone on his heists, and it was through Len and Micks’ machinations that Lewis ended up behind bars so that Lisa could finish out her high school career in some semblance of peace. 

But Lewis had never revealed who her Fullest was; he’d deliberately kept them apart as an exercise in control. By the time Lisa was in foster care, she’d rejected the very idea of meeting her Fullest. 

“I’ve already gotten my colors. What else could a grade-schooler have to offer?” She’d say whenever Len approached the topic. Len didn’t know the best way to help her; he himself was conflicted. He couldn’t imagine finding his Fullie or adding anyone to his life aside from Mick and Lisa, but he was envious of her Full Spectrum. 

-o-

Years of reading the Central City Picture-News for valuable, effortless schemes finally paid off. Maybe it wasn’t the easiest mark, but Mercury Lab’s newest prototype opened up a universe of possibilities in his mind, possibilities where he was the king of Central City’s underworld - and it was entirely worth the risk.

Mick was happy to help, but had no interest in the score; he’d never had an urge or want for more colors. He was happy with orange, destroying anything he wanted with fire that flickered into color like magic. But Len had grander plans. After years of being Lewis’ punching bag, he wanted nothing more than to be on top. 

Mercury Labs’ ‘Chromoptic’ glasses allowed the Colorblind to access some of their inactivated optic rods to see a spectrum of color. It took nearly a year to plan the perfect heist, but by the time it was over, Len had a pair of their first-generation glasses. They looked like any other sunglasses monochromats or achromats might wear to block out the brightness that began to plague them in their twenties, but instead showed Len a spectrum of color he’d never seen before. 

_ It was spectacular. _

Even with the glasses he was still missing the differences between red and green,at least according to Lisa. He didn’t mind much; it didn’t change his ability to see Midnight Blue, but he couldn’t see the same Tiger Orange that Mick knew and loved. Given that no one expected him to see shades beyond black and white, the glasses combined with his aptitude for precision planning gave him an edge that rivaled anything that Central’s Families could offer. 

He didn’t need anything more. 


	2. Chapter 2

They’d all thought he was so lucky, when he’d gotten his first color on the first day of Kindergarten. But after his mother’s murder, his father’s (unjust) incarceration, they all believed the insult to injury was the fact that poor, parent-less, deluded Barry Allen was a Mattie in college. It didn’t seem to matter that he was a monochromat - every day, he still saw lavender, bright as a flower blooming in the sunshine - but to 99% of Fullies around him, that single color paled in comparison to the “Full Spectrum of the Rainbow,” and they lumped him together with the achromats with nothing but pity and a nickname to go with it.

_ Ugh. _

Being _ Without Colors _ \- his preferred terminology - was the least of his worries, to be honest. It had even gotten him the job he’d managed to keep since freshman year - the Safety Officer for the Chemistry Department. It was a work study that gave preference to applicants Without Color. A number of the safety precautions had both color and colorless warning systems and Fullies were significantly more likely to miss defects in colorless systems; four decades of research had proven _ that _fact.

In addition to checking the warning systems, it was his job to ensure that all equipment that needed electrical failsafes were plugged into the dark shaded outlets that would run off a generator in the case of a power outage. He tested all the chromometers weekly, making sure the test vials output the correct wavelength in nanometers for the associated color; an especially important task in the colorimetry labs. When he wasn’t doing that, he dusted and oiled and cleaned every device the department used and when he was done with the last device in the last lab, he started all over again. It was tedious, but had decent pay, gave him practical chemistry experience and actively sought out applicants Without Color, instead of grumpily (and poorly) accommodating for them. 

And in truth, he didn’t understand the fuss about the Full Spectrum anyways. Lavender was enough for him, more beauty than he could imagine. And it was Iris, _ Iris _who brought that color into his life. And even though she was planning her perfect wedding with Eddie, even though she didn’t love him the way he’d hoped she would, he was more than happy to be her best friend. 

He didn’t need a whole rainbow when he had Iris.

-o-

Mick didn’t appreciate their most successful heist the way Len did. Mick basked in his secret, lying about his Partial status; loving how it made ignorant and clueless civilians uncomfortable and how it made the criminal class begrudge him for not having a liability. At least, not a liability they knew about. Besides, it gave Mick an excuse to wear his protective fire goggles at all times. Not just to shade him from the ever-brightening whiteness that plagued Matties as they aged, but to protect him from the fire that so disabledly entranced him. 

But then, Len supposed what he thought of as their most successful heist wasn’t the same as Mick. The sunshades Len’d been wearing for almost a decade were the very key to their prosperity. It had taken him six months to reverse engineer the bulky Chromoptic glasses to the point where he could easily conceal their properties in a pair of classic sunshade frames. So long as everyone underestimated Len’s abilities and believed him to see nothing more than black, white and shades of gray, Len was the king of Central City. His “guesses” were better than any scammer in the Santinis could surmise, any bookie in any bar could believe, or any crooked cop in Central City could conceive. 

Sure, it killed any romantic prospects - Fullies never gave Matties the time of day. The sunshades were considered a ‘dead giveaway’ of his black-and-white status despite the colors they allowed Len to see. Worse than that were the fetishists. The ones who reveled in deceiving Matties with colors and tricks to the point of sexual delight. The ones who believed achromatopsia was the romantic equivalent to virginity. He’d even taken advantage of it, once or twice, clearing out the life savings of some trust-fund colorist bastard who’d taken Len as some sort of virginal, naive mark, just because he wasn’t a Fullie.

_ Fucking Fullies. _

But then again, Fullie pigs would take one look at a crime scene and dismissed the Matties entirely based on the security system alone. There wasn’t a pocket picked that Len wasn’t dragged in for, but no one glanced his way when the Baquerot Private Bank, with its Garnok Multi-Tiered Chromatic Control 780 security system, was looted without a single clue left behind. Hell, the entire CCPD hadn’t had a Mattie in their employ until a year ago and that baby-faced monochromat wasn’t even an actual cop. 

The only true competition were the Families. And he already had plans on how to take down the Santinis. He’d own his own little chunk of Central City. He, Mick and Lisa. A Family like no other.

-o-

Barry’s head was spinning. “What’s happening? What’s going on?”

“You were struck by lightning, dude,” said - _what’d he say his name was?_ _Cisco?_

Barry glanced briefly at Cisco and the doctor, who were both fussing over him, but was distracted by something else entirely. 

“Lightning gave me… colors?” he stuttered, looking at his hand, Cisco’s t-shirt, the monitors on the walls. 

“Colors? You can see colors?” The doctor questioned, turning to Cisco, “Can we get a list of everyone who touched him in the hospital?”

“On it,” Cisco sat in front of a computer and began to type.

It was all overwhelming. The doctor, _ Caitlin Snow _ she’d had to remind him, Cisco, and _ Dr. Harrison-frickin-Wells _ started over, slowly this time, going over the events of the lightning strike, the particle accelerator, his hospital stay, and his brand new - _ not brand-new, nine months old at this point _ \- inhuman physiology.

But Barry was far less interested in his rapid metabolism and heartbeat. He was fully entranced by his new colors. They were so _ many _ of them, and all of them were so _ vibrant_. Even his skin was nuanced and colorful in a way he hadn’t expected. Despite Dr. Well’s insistence that they talk about the other effects of his accidents, Barry simply wandered around the lab, pointing to colors. “What color is this?” he asked. Cisco was the only one who answered him. Dr. Snow ignored him and kept running medical exams; checking his blood pressure, drawing blood, or shoving a sterile cup into his hands for a sample. He looked at it, “What color is the lid?” 

“I’ll tell you when you get back,” Dr. Snow tried to bribe him, but the attempt was ruined by Cisco’s immediately answer.

“Mr. Allen,” Dr Wells cut in, “Let Caitlin run her tests. If you are feeling up to it, I’ll contact the Wests on your behalf. Are you ready for company?”

Dr. Snow - _ no, she insisted on Caitlin _ \- was still running tests an hour later when Joe and Iris nearly burst from the elevator. 

“Barry!” Iris exclaimed, running to him. 

Barry untangled himself from the hospital bed and nearly tripped into Iris’ arms. Barry could hear the smile on her face and the tears in her eyes as she confessed, “I’m so, so glad you’re awake.”

Joe came over, wrapping his kids in a big bear hug with watery eyes. After a few moments, they broke apart, and Joe looked him up and down. “Y’know, when they said you were doing pretty good for being in a coma, they weren’t lyin’.”

Barry smiled and shrugged. “I’m feeling pretty good.” He gave a playful smirk, “And I gotta say, I like that tie. Red stripes suit you.”

Joe looked confused for half a second before Iris squealed, “Barry! You got your colors!”

“I got my colors!” Barry agreed, arms held out as though showing them off. 

“Who is it?” She twirled around, looking at Caitlin, Cisco, and Dr. Wells.

“Uh… No one,” Cisco spoke up from behind the computer.

“What?” Barry and Iris asked together.

“No one who has interacted with you since your accident has reported colors after contact,” Cisco clarified, rolling out from behind the monitor to see them better. “So I guess, lightning did give you colors?”

“Huh,” Barry was less disappointed than he thought he’d be - finding his Fullie after waking from a nine month coma seemed overwhelming. He nudged Iris, who looked concerned, “But hey! Colors! And I cannot _ believe _that you aren’t wearing lavender today!”

“What?” The question echoed softly from several voices, taking Barry by surprise.

Caitlin broke the awkward silence, “Barry, what color is Iris wearing?”

Barry looked around the room for comparison to the colors they’d already identified for him. “Sort of a… reddish… brown-grey color?” He knew there was a problem as he watched the entire room look at each other instead of him. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

Iris took Barry’s hand in her own. “Barry, I’m wearing lavender. There’s something wrong with your colors.”

“But I can see so many of them now. And some of them are right!” Barry pointed to Joe’s red tie. 

“You may have a color disorder.” Caitlin rose up from her stool and headed toward Cisco, “Can you pull up my MediniceToDate account and search for Bhaskar’s Color Disorder charts?”

“On it.”

She turned back to Barry, “I’m sorry, but we’re going to need a few more tests.”

With Joe and Iris by his side, the half hour of tests went by in a flash. Caitlin, satisfied with the results, went on to explain. 

“We are all born with three types of inactive cones in our retinas: red, blue, and green. At the first touch of a compatible mate, the cones activate in a process called tactichromation. Sometimes, even when you’ve touched a compatible mate, not all the cones activate - this is called color blindness and is fairly rare. The people who have inactive red or green cones end up seeing a very similar color spectrum, because of the way light is interpreted by our brains.”

Caitlin held up two identical images. “In your case, it is your blue cones that are inactive, which is technically still a type of color disorder called tritanopia. As such, you see these two images as identical,” she paused for Barry to nod affirmatively, “But in fact, they are colored very differently to people who have all three types of rods active.”

Barry looked to Cisco, who nodded, and then to Joe and Iris, who confirmed that they too, could see the different colors. Dr. Wells just watched him with interest and Barry felt his face fall. It was hard to be thrilled about the new colors in his life, but to also find out he was still missing out. 

“So, if the lightning gave me colors, but I can’t see all of them, does that mean I don’t have a Full Spectrum?”

“Excellent question!” Caitlin smiled proudly, ignoring the frowns around her. “Currently, your tactichromation process has not been triggered. That’s how we know that your new abnormal physiology is responsible for the activated cones. So that means it is still possible that one day, you might touch someone and start seeing the blue spectrum.”

Barry gave a small smile. He could handle that. He was still waiting, hoping to meet his Full Spectrum one day, just like he always had been. 

But until then, he had this wonderful new color spectrum to explore. 

-o-

Len loved new tech. New tech is what brought down dear old Dad’s pathetic excuse for a plan and landed him twenty to life in Iron Heights. New tech is what he taught himself during late nights on watch and new tech made him the best thief in Central City. And new tech is what made him Captain Cold, the only match to date for that slick upstart hero speeding around Central like he owned the place.

The Cold Gun was his own little piece of perfection. The weaponized embodiment of his icy demeanor and deadly execution. He decked himself out in a Midnight Blue parka, a nostalgic throwback to the only color he’d ever seen without assistance. He’d even brought a peace offering to Mick, placating him with fire; Mick’s favorite manifestation of Tiger Orange.

It was though a new day had dawned for them. Len and Mick were self-made men; pillars of raw human power that could not only keep up with the mutated half-humans that the city called Metas, but they could control and wield Metas’ power to serve their own interests.

He’d blackmailed The Flash, the kid with the cute ass in the tight suit, and commanded his ever growing collection of Rogues, welcome additions to his little Family. He was practically untouchable. It’d taken nearly fifteen years, but every criminal in Central City, from the high-class escorts to the petty bike thieves, knew Mattie or not, no one fucking messed with Leonard Snart and survived unscathed. 

Maybe that was why he allowed himself to be sweet-talked into this ridiculous time travel mission. It was addictive in its own right, dangerous and deadly, but the novelty of walking into a different decade - _ a different era _ \- hadn’t yet worn off. 

But this was a twist he hadn’t expected. 

Len smirked at his unanticipated guest. “Barry Allen, hero of Central City. This is Siberia in the year 1892. We're a little out of your jurisdiction.”

As Barry outlined his request, warmth curled up inside him. This damned kid touched him all the wrong spots and none of the right ones. He wouldn’t have gotten himself dragged into this just to help Allen’s Partial, but Allen recruiting his skills as a thief? This was an exercise in wish fulfillment; he’d be an idiot to decline. 

They made the plan. 

They executed the plan. 

The plan went off the rails. 

They threw away the plan. 

But Len never failed and he certainly wasn’t going to fail now that he got to show off his ample and varied skill set for _ The Flash_. And now, having successfully procured the item in question and having seen a darker side of the sweet, baby-faced Barry Allen, they stood here in the forest together, not unlike their first face-to-face meeting years ago. 

Indulging himself in a way he’d deny later, Len locked eyes with Barry. “Piece of advice: stop trying to beat Savitar at his own game. Your goodness is your strength. And call me sentimental; I think the Flash should remain a hero.” Len gave him a fond smirk and slowly pulled the glove off his good hand - _ the real hand _ \- one finger at a time. “Gentleman’s handshake?” he suggested, offering his bare hand for skin-to-skin contact, the way agreements and contracts had been certified for centuries. 

Barry nodded and pulled off his own glove. “Take care of yourself, Snart,” he said, clasping Len’s hand. 

The visual explosion was fierce, but Len refused to flinch. Instead, he slowly removed his glasses and eyed Barry from head to toe. Barry’s wide, startled eyes only confirmed what he himself was seeing.

“My, my, Barry. Don’t you look lovely in red?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Examples of the various color deficiencies discussed in this fic on my tumblr: [PhiPiOhSum475](https://phipiohsum475.tumblr.com/post/187083091513/references-for-my-newest-coldflash-soulmate-au).

**Author's Note:**

> I did try to use factual information to support the information in this fic:
> 
> Personal testimonies of Achromats, or those Without Color: [Living With Achromatopsia](http://www.achromat.org/lv.pdf)  
Basic concepts of color blindness: [ Facts About Color Blindness](https://nei.nih.gov/health/color_blindness/facts_about)
> 
> Also, thanks for dialogue goes to: [Springfield, Springfield.](https://www.springfieldspringfield.co.uk/episode_scripts.php?tv-show=the-flash-2014)


End file.
